#they tend to come earlier for demons who descend while demons born in hell can sometimes not get them even past 200yrs

[sasukimimochi]

Wei Wuxian belted out a laugh as he was basically dragged over to the bed, however obediently sitting down upon the blood red blankets when prompted. "I see you've missed me. You know I had to go, though, they needed me." He smiled, wrapping his hand around the silky white ribbon in his husbands hair with practiced ease. He had seen this look many times on his husband while they were alive, and it was no less adorable to him to see what was essentially the jade pouting. He looked so upset, but it was just so cute!

He lifted Lan Wangji's face gently from where it had been buried in his chest, gave a kiss to his nose that had became somewhat pink from the rubbing, and leaned back with crescents for eyes. "Lan Zhan~! What's with all this pouting? I was only gone for a bit."

Lan Wangji huffed softly and leaned up to pepper the sun on the other's chest in kisses, not letting up one bit even as his husband giggled from the sensation traveling up his neck.

"I can't take you with me, you know that- Lan Zhan hahaha!" Wei Wuxian nuzzled against the angel in retort, but still ended up getting buried in the other's affections.

Here's the sketches i made for my friend who needed some gay to cheer up ✨ her favorite is COI so that's what we get today hehe [plus a couple bonuses] i like adding writing segments with my art as well so i whipped this up [maybe i'll use it in the fic one day if it fits the chapters i make for it]

I hope you guys like it!!

bonuses!

extra versions and the link to other coi art is under the cut! i really liked the sketches so i wanted to provide them without the color haha

the ribbon being held was personally requested by my friend so you have her to thank! lol actually the idea for this is hers to thank too cuz i wasn't sure what to do. she wanted the staring-into-each-other's-eyes thing hehe

her other ideas i was like they're great but i am a dying artist i can only give simple pleasures (i might try to write her other suggestions down the line tho cuz they were cute n very gay)

Check out more COI art or other AU's via my MDZS fanfiction masterpost. [There's a lot more art to check out so have fun!!]

Check out the original COI post however to get the most information about it, cuz that's where i write down a lot of character and AU information that i don't entail in my masterpost [cuz it'd get too big if i added all of it]

Don't repost/use/alter my work thank you! Can be used as icons with credit.

[amongushq]

Welcome to Among Us, RAL! ECATERINA BRÂNCOVEANU ( with the faceclaim of ALIA SHAWKAT ) has found shelter in NEW ATHENS, where we hope SHE will fit in nicely. Please make sure to check the “after applying” section of our navigation here!

Hunters of Artemis being immortal, there’s always a great opportunity for a deep, well-researched, intense backstory and this is exactly what you have delivered with Ecaterina. The immersion into the different time periods shown in her app was excellent, both technically and in terms of writing style. Not to mention the spot-on Artemis and Apollo, who added levity to the whole thing -- thus reinforcing Ecat’s anger, outrage, and trauma. The latter isn’t discarded or handled too lightly, instead becomes an inherent part of who she is while not defining her completely. Her personality shows through both the backstory and sample parts of the application, and we can tell she’s someone the others can count on to fight back and take action. Because of her terrible experience, her opinion of the Recall is logical, a cold rationale we wish didn’t make as much sense. While it makes no doubt more people share her point of view, we’ll be watching as this Hunter tries to wake people up around her, and make her voice heard over Zeus’ order.

AND YOU ARE…?

Somewhere in a small village in Lesser Wallachia, December 13th, 1568

“Have you heard? That gypsy girl Amira is in labour.”

“Gypsy? I thought she was one of those blasted Ottomans.”

“I heard her skin darkened after she copulated with the devil. The child will have skin dark as the night and black demon eyes.”

“Does it matter? That cursed coloured witch is about to give birth. On Friday the 13th. If she survives the birthing, it’s clearly blood magic. God would not spare such an abomination during childbirth unless there were dark power involved. The child won’t last long, that’s for sure. God will damn her and her spawn, may He save us all.”

Amira’s baby girl wasn’t born with ash black skin or completely black eyes, but with light brown skin, a face full of moles and freckles- “marks of the devil!”- and deep, brown eyes. She nor her mother were neither gypsies, Ottomans or witches, but descendants of a family of Arab traders. The father was thought to be a young Wallachian man with a family too ashamed to be associated with “a gypsy whore” or a demon lover. Neither options were right, but no pious man or woman would even consider the father to be the Greek god of music.

The mother named her newly-born girl Ecaterina, a beautiful Wallachian name, in the hope she could blend in easier. It did not work.

Amira and her daughter went on to live in a caravan on the outskirts of the village, close to the woods, far away from the villagers with their sharp tongues and judgy eyes, where Amira could raise Ecaterina in peace, where she could teach her the secrets of nature and the art of palm reading. They might not have been gypsies, but Amira was smart enough to play on their reputation. Tarot cards, palm readings, medicinal herbs, you name it, they had it. And the villagers, despite their gossip and prejudice, couldn’t resist a glimpse into their future or something to delay their journey into an early grave.

–

The same village in Lesser Wallachia, January 4th, 1587

“They’re witches, clearly,” a farmer says to the crowd of people around him. It started off with mostly curious, nosy women and a couple of Godfearing maligners, but slander attracts all sorts of people, quick.

“The girl is possessed by a demon! That’s why she has such accurate predictions. I’ve seen her tremble and black out- a possession! She’s possessed!” a furious woman shrieked, almost delirious.

One by one, people joined in accusations- who cared if they spoke the truth or not.

“They make potions under the disguise of medicine!”

“The girl is a sodomite. And she has the devil’s marks all over her!”

“They can transform into black cats!”

A loud shout pierced through the murmur of the angry mass of people. “They belong in Hell!”

The whole crowd erupted into madness. “In Hell,” they all screamed. “In Hell!”

–

Amira’s caravan burned down the same night. No one bothered to go looking. No prayer for the dead was uttered.

Soon, Amira and her daughter were forgotten.

–

Somewhere in the woods close to the small village in Lesser Wallachia, January 5th, 1587

A list of things Artemis expects to find in the Eastern European woods: wild blueberries, a sizeable deer population, coniferous trees.

A list of things Artemis does not expect to find in the Eastern European woods: her shirtless brother dancing with naked nymphs, a priest in the middle of self-chastisement, a young girl rolling around, groaning in pain.

Unfortunately, the former happened more often than she would like it to. Actually, she should expect it by now.

Finding Ecaterina was a first-time experience. Artemis could smell burnt skin. The girl was covered in dirt and old leaves, letting out deep grunts of pain, breaking out in cold sweat. Even though she undoubtedly was in an immense amount of pain, Artemis could feel the girl’s strength, her determination to die with dignity. The pain didn’t allow the girl to speak, but the Goddess understood. It was a cry of help.

Artemis could use her.

–

“Salutations, sister of mine. How can I be of service for you today?” Apollo was shirtless and glowing, far too happy to be in the presence of an injured human.

“Aide her.”

“No, ‘if you please?’” All he got as an answer was a silent glare. “No? Then let us help this young lady. I can never resist a beautiful damsel in distress.” Apollo crouched down next to Ecaterina and poked her cheek. Again he was met with a glare, albeit this time with more pain in the expression. “Touchy. She shall survive, however. I will tend to the wounds on her back and give her ambrosia, that will suffice. It will stop her physical distress. I cannot prevent scars however. The burn runs deep. What happened, did they tried to burn you at the stake?”

He meant it as a joke, but the girl’s glare and attempt to punch him was a clear indicator that he’d just truck a nerve. As long as he did not hit any literal nerves later. Not that he would, ever. He was a genius.

He missed the times where there were shrines dedicated to him everywhere. Those were the good times. Now they all believed in only One God, who was good and sinless and boring.

–

“I pledge myself to the Goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt.”

“Welcome, Hunter Ecaterina. May you enjoy the company of your fellow hunters and always remember the oath you recited.”

–

Bethel, New York, August 17th, 1969

A list of things Apollo expects to see at the Woodstock festival: good music, drugs, Dionysus talking three girls into an orgy with him.

A list of things Apollo does not expect to see at the Woodstock festival: right-wing conservatives, all-black outfits, his sister.

“Yo, sis! What are you doin’ here? And you brought your pretty Hunters too!” He shook his golden curls and gestured animatedly with his hands. Once again he was shirtless, but he was not the only one by far. Apollo was pretty sure he’d spotted a topless girl just five seconds ago. He loved it here.

“Dad sent me to look after you again, and Dionysus. See that you don’t get into too much trouble.” Artemis was wearing a long, flowy dress, round glasses and beads in her hair. He felt the need to document this so he could taunt Artemis with this for the years to come. Her Hunters were dressed similarly, blending in seamlessly with the rest of the hippies. They all were trying to look like they weren’t excited to be there, but most of them failed- their eyes were twinkling, one girl was tapping her fingers on the rhythm of the beat, another one was staring admiringly at the musicians on the stage.

Apollo scoffed. “I’m being a good boy. I’m just enjoying myself. As should you. This is a historical event, so go and be part of history.” He took off his sunglasses and winked at the nearest Hunter, a freckled girl with wild curls in an oversized floral shirt. “Hey, I know you. You’re the girl I helped in the woods. Wanna help me with some wood now?” He waggled his eyebrows and ignored the shouts of protests of Artemis and her followers. “You’re all so boring. Go have fun, sis, if you’re even capable of doing such thing.”

With a short huff, Artemis turned around- in the direction of the crowd, not towards the exit. Ha, Apollo thought victoriously. Got ya. Her Hunters followed suit, except the one he winked to. “Ah, so you are going to help me with my w- no hitting immortal deities, dear. Or anyone, actually. This is a no violence zone.”

The girl sighed. “What did you mean earlier? You helped me?”

“Yeah, I did. When Artemis found you, she asked me for help, and you should thank me, because otherwise you’d be dead by now! Well, I mean, of course you’d be dead by now if you hadn’t been immortal, three decades have passed, but anyhow-“

“You healed me? But you’re incompetent.”

Auwch, that hurt. “Incompetent? What kind of crap is my sister telling you? I’m incredibly smart! I’m a walking work of art. I’m a genius and incredibly handsome, I’ve invented all the instruments and then some, and I’m a true lover at heart.“ He paused to wait for the applause. The girl just raised an eyebrow. "It’s a limerick. I visited Ireland a while ago, and a quick tip, avoid the North. But you see? I’m a genius.”

The girl stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She did not look impressed. “You really are as annoying as Lady Artemis has claimed.”

“That hurts, girlie.”

“Ecaterina. Not ‘girlie’.”

Apollo waved her comment away. “Yeah, yeah. Any more questions, Kitty Cat, or are you done?”

She looked ready to yell. Apollo grinned widely.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “I am- having these visions. Lady Artemis said you could help.”

“Visions? Like prophecies? Don’t tell me you are my next Oracle.”

“Not prophecies. I just see quick flashes, like someone I know doing something, and then I faint. I excelled at palm reading and tarot cards, however.”

“Hm.” Apollo tapped his chin. He felt like he was missing something. “What else can you do? Music? Healing? Archery?”

“I’m the best archer we have. I don’t seem to have a musical talent, except some basic rhythm. And every hunter heals easily.”

“And when were you originally born again?”

“1568. In Romania- well, Lesser Wallachia at the time.”

“Did your mother’s name start with an A? Arianne or something?”

“Amira.”

Apollo clapped in his hands. “Amira! Right! She was one foxy lady. Well, sorry to tell you, kiddo, but you’re one of mine. Seems like you have an aptitude for divination and that’s what the flashes are.” He spread his arms wide. “Now come and give your father a hug!”

Ecaterina looked absolutely shocked. “You are my father?”

“’Fraid so.”

The realisation was visibly sinking in. When the girl finally understood that he wasn’t kidding- even though he had a great sense of humour- she promptly turned around and walked away.

“That’s no way to treat your father, young lady!” Apollo laughed. Artemis was going to be so pissed when she found out.